Behind Closed Doors
by Celestial Clusters
Summary: AU. Oneshot. UKxUS. "I realized it then. My best friend Alfred F. Jones was a liar. He was a liar...who needed love and help. And I decided I would provide both, no matter the cost."


A/N: Hello everyone! First, I'd like to wish all of my readers a happy early Christmas! Or, if you don't celebrate Christmas, happy holidays and cheers to whatever you _do _celebrate! :) Second, this is a little oneshot I churned out to get my creative juices flowing again after not writing in a while. Hopefully now since I'm back in business with fanfiction I can update quicker! So, I hope you enjoy the oneshot; have a happy holiday season and a great new year! Hope to hear from you guys!

**WARNING: **AU. Oneshot. First-person POV. Human names used. UKxUS. Implied one-sided Franada. A lot of angst but eventual fluff. **TRIGGER WARNING.** Mentions of child abuse, depression, PTSD, self-harm, and self-hate. Attempted suicide. Instances of swearing, homophobia, and bullying. Characters/fandom belong to their respective owners.

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><p>When I was in the tenth grade, I first laid my eyes on a moving truck. It was early August, and it brought a bit of shock to everyone in our little neighborhood. After all, the town was already small, and no one really moved in, or left, it seemed like. But there it was, parked next door to my house.<p>

I watched from my front porch as three forms clambered out of the sleek, red Acura parked in the driveway. I noticed two boys climb out from the backseat, each with glasses and a bob of messy blonde hair. From the driver's seat emerged a woman that I assumed to be their mother, although the long brunette hair threw me off slightly. I never saw a fatherly figure show up, though…

Well, it wasn't like my family was normal. I lived alone with my father, since my mother died in childbirth with me. My three brothers were all college kids and they were never home. It was enough of a challenge to convince them to come home for holidays. My oldest brother and my father didn't get along well either. Father wasn't fond of his son's choices from what I could tell, but my brother had always been rebellious. Even during holidays, when we all came together, they fought.

My father found out about our new neighbors rather quickly, and he insisted that I invite them over for dinner. Thankfully, Father offered to cook. I was very bad at making homemade meals…while my father was very good at it. Once it was settled between the two of us, I walked next door that evening to make the invitation.

The mother answered the door. I noticed she had a cheery demeanor, and bright hazel eyes that sparkled when she talked. She had her hair up in a messy bun when I came over and she instantly apologized for her appearance. Behind her I could see moving boxes strewn everywhere and I immediately assured her it was alright.

I simply gave her a small smile and offered her my hand. "I'm Arthur Kirkland, your next door neighbor. If it would be alright with you, would you like to come over for dinner Saturday night?"

I noticed her smile got wider when I asked her that. She clasped my hand in her own, and shook it, introducing herself as 'Alyssa Williams'. Since I had yet to see the father, I wasn't sure if that was a shared name, or simply her own. I noticed her slightly tan hands radiated warmth and it was like a certain glow rubbed off from her. I had to admit though, I was rather happy when she eagerly accepted my offer.

I wasn't happy, however, when my father had to leave just before their arrival that night on a last-minute business meeting. I knew better than to argue, though, as it couldn't be changed. I was, I had to admit, used to it anyway…

The neighbors arrived ten minutes early. I ushered them all into the dining room for a small period while I added finishing touches the meal Father had made before he left. Soon enough we were all piled in the dining room. I was thankful that Alyssa was rather talkative; otherwise there would be an awkward silence that I would remain clueless on how to eliminate.

She introduced her two sons to me. They were twins, I came to understand. Alfred and Matthew Jones. Alfred was older by three minutes and seemed rather happy-go-lucky, while his brother was quieter and liked to blend in with his surroundings. They were very close, and seemed to thrive on each other's company.

I learned a lot that day about the little family before me. They seemed so happy, the three of them. Alyssa and Alfred and Matthew all liked to smile…but Alfred definitely smiled the most. They were huge grins that showed off all his teeth, and he would laugh a lot too. He seemed so…happy.

It was just the three of them. The little happy family before me was broken, but still good, in more than one way. I listened to the three talk about various things. About Alyssa working in floral shops and about Alfred desiring to be an astronaut; Matthew chimed in about wanting to be a doctor. I put my two cents in about wanting to be a therapist. They all stared at me for a minute before they laughed in a good-humored way, and Alyssa praised me for having dreams.

There were many things I learned that day. I learned that my now permanent neighbors were a little broken but happy family. I learned that they were all close, especially the two twins that were only one grade below me. I saw with my own eyes how Alfred Jones seemed like the happiest kid on earth as he sat with his twin and they talked about girls and football.

But I learned fast enough that the little family I met was a family full of liars.

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><p>School started after Labor Day every year. Alfred and Matthew were freshmen and I was a sophomore this year. They rode the bus with me, and sat in the seat directly across from me every day. We talked about many different things. Alfred did most of the talking, and used his hands often during discussions. He knew how to make us laugh until we were gasping for like a fish out of water and were on the edge of wetting ourselves.<p>

I never really had friends before, but I dared myself to call the Jones twins my best friends. Even after school, we did our homework, and met up to just see each other. They spent a lot of time at my house, but I didn't mind. They'd play video games with me or just lie on my carpeted bedroom floor and talk about things. I didn't mind at all. I loved having company over every day. It made me feel…less alone.

Since the twins were freshmen, and I was above them, we didn't have core classes together. We did, however, have lunch together, along with gym at the end of the day. Matthew and I weren't the best at sports. Alfred was very fast, so he had potential to play sports, but he was very clumsy. He tripped a lot, I noticed. A lot of times we would skip playing games to run laps, just so we could talk. It was like what the girls did but I didn't mind.

One day in November, Alfred wasn't smiling when he got on the bus. Matthew wasn't even asking him what was wrong…and then I knew that the younger blonde already knew what was wrong. And neither of them would tell me. I felt hurt and out of the loop…and I didn't like it.

Still, there was nothing I could do. I didn't see either of them until lunchtime. I noticed that when we all sat down, Alfred was eating more than usual. I decided not to say anything over the matter. I decided it was not that serious.

I thought that at least until gym that day. We were changing into our workout clothes in the locker room, like we did every day. I could hear the girls giggling in the room next to ours over the noise of the boys hitting each other with sweat rags. The three of us always changed near the back corner to avoid confrontation. After all, we didn't really want to end up like old Jonathan, who got beat up in the locker room shower once.

That day I stole a glance at Alfred. I made it as subtle as I could; after all, if you got caught staring at another guy in the locker room, the other boys thought you were coming onto them or something. But I saw Alfred long enough to determine something. Alfred was growing. He taller than both Matthew and myself, and back in August, he had a rather sleek body that some guys seemed to be jealous of. But then I noticed he was different. Alfred had put on weight, mostly near his middle. When he tore on his gym shirt, I let my gaze shoot away.

It bothered me that I felt conflicting emotions over Alfred's appearance. Well, what was it to me, anyway? It wasn't my business…

Over the weeks though, Alfred got chubbier. I noticed he was still eating more and he started hiding himself in sweaters, even if the heat was running inside and kept us warm. His smiles weren't as often anymore.

By the time December arrived, I felt like I was losing Alfred. We still talked…but this Alfred wasn't the same one I met back in August. He didn't really like coming to my house anymore. When he and Matthew came over, Matthew did most of the talking. Alfred just sat there on my bed staring at his shoes all evening. And no matter how many times I asked, Matthew never gave me any answers.

At least…not until that Friday before Christmas break.

In gym, someone had been picking on Matthew. It had been simple teasing at first and he played it off quite nicely, not letting it get to him. They started to give him little smacks every now and again though and I could tell that was only the beginning. It started to escalate until one day, I walked into the locker room to find a group of boys hitting him. They had him by the hair, and kept punching him in the stomach and chest. Matthew was strong but obviously he couldn't take them all by himself. And what was more obvious was that there was no one who was even thinking about calling the coach, lest they want a pounding too.

I had never seen Alfred angry before until then. He grabbed the football captain by the hair and whirled him around, giving him a beautiful left hook to the jaw. He was on his knees coughing and spit out some teeth. I was amazed that someone like Alfred had the guts to hit him. After all, the captain was a senior and was huge compared to Alfred. But Alfred didn't seem to care. He had just dragged Matthew out to go get in the starting position on the waxed gymnasium floor.

That Friday before Christmas break was like a car accident that I couldn't look away from. I knew I should've been expecting more ever since the incident, but my brain never let it register.

When I walked into the locker room that afternoon, the first thing I heard was screaming. Painful, terrified, bloodcurdling screams that made my skin crawl. I found a group of boys near the back line of showers, cheering over something. I pushed my way in as far as I could to get a better look, thankful right then for my height and width. I managed to wiggle through and take a peek.

The football captain and a few of his buddies had Alfred pinned down on the floor of the shower. Alfred's face was black and blue, his glasses shattered, and his nose bleeding. They kept hitting and kicking him. I had never heard such insults in my life. They didn't let up, beating him even though Alfred couldn't fight back. They even started to spit on him. My heart started to hurt, and I panicked. I tried to go forward, but someone held me back by my shirt collar. I started screaming for them to let go of me, and I tried to pry the thick hand off of me. Alfred needed help and even though I was one of the smaller boys, I had to help him.

And it happened all of a sudden. Alfred's eyes looked far away, and he curled up into a little ball. He started shaking violently and he threw up all of a sudden on the captain's shoes. He started wailing. He cried as hard and loud as his lungs let him, and he curled up even more, shielding his face and head with his slightly pudgy arms. He started screaming. Over and over and _over _he started shrieking the word 'stop', even though no one was even touching him anymore. Someone tried to touch him and he let out this bloodcurdling scream that made my blood run cold.

My memories of that incident grew fuzzy. All I know is that two of the coaches were suddenly hunched over Alfred, trying to get him to look at them, to calm down, anything. Nothing worked. It only seemed to make it worse. I watched as Alfred hyperventilated until he lost consciousness, and the freshmen coach scooped him up and off the floor to carry him to the nurse.

I knew right then something was really wrong with Alfred F. Jones.

I held any and all questions inside of me. Matthew didn't talk to me at all in gym after the incident, but I can't say I blamed him for him. I knew he was worried, and I was too. But when he sat down across from me on the bus like he did every day, putting his backpack in his lap, he looked at me with a serious expression on his face.

"Arthur," he mumbled to me, and suddenly got up. He clambered into the same seat as me, and pressed close to me. His eyes were shiny with tears and I realized then how anxious he really was. After all, I heard rumors Alfred had to go the hospital earlier that day. I was upset, but I knew if I was Matthew, I would've been terrified. "Arthur, can you keep a secret?"

A secret? I frowned and then nodded. Yes, I was good at keeping secrets. I gobbled them all up when my brothers were still around. They told me all the problems they had with one another in secret to get it off their chests. I never told a soul.

Matthew moved even closer to me. His voice was a whisper I had to strain to hear. He swallowed and I noticed he was crying. "When we were little, something really bad happened to Alfred."

Matthew told me everything, and the pieces fell in place.

He told me he and Alfred were born in Florida, near Miami. They lived in a little white house on the corner with a rose garden, and it was sunny almost all year. He talked about how his mother owned a floral shop downtown. And he told me about their father…but Matthew refused to call him by his name. Their father was simply 'he', not 'dad', or 'father'. Just 'he'.

"He was a construction worker. He and mom were married for eleven years I think before she had me and Alfred." Matthew hesitated for a long time. "…I don't think he liked us very much."

Matthew told me more on the way home. He told me how he and Alfred grew older and their parents started fighting a lot. He and Alfred would go hide in the basement and play with Hot Wheels and watch cartoons to try to ignore it. He said whenever he cried because it got too loud, Alfred would hug him tightly and wouldn't let go.

"When we turned eight…things got really bad." Matthew mumbled, cleaning his round glasses with the hem of his shirt. "He and mom were trying to get a divorce. He didn't like that. He didn't like not having control… He was angry all the time, and…he… I think he was trying to prove that he was still the boss."

Matthew cried some more all of sudden. The stories he was starting to tell me made my heart hurt, and I felt sympathy rise inside of me. He told me things I had only heard about in movies.

He said that when they were nine, their father hit Alfred while their mom was at work and ordered them not to tell. So they didn't. He said that they were scared to come home after that. He told me about everything their father did. He would yell at them and shake them and hit them, and he said if they told their mother he'd 'do something really bad to both of them'. He told me about how Alfred would force Matthew to hide in the closet or the basement, and that while he hid, he could hear Alfred screaming in pain. He told me that Alfred was his protector, his own guardian angel, in that Matthew only got hit a couple times.

He said one day when their mom was still at work, 'he' went crazy. He told me about how he drank and then whirled on the both of them. Alfred hid Matthew in the bathroom closet. Matthew told me that it was the scariest thing he had ever seen. He told me Alfred almost died. He told me he didn't remember it very well, but he remembered police and ambulances piling into their neighborhood in front of their house, and 'he' was put in a police car and disappeared. He said he didn't remember the ride to the hospital, but he remembered Alfred being in the emergency room. He remembered crying a lot as he gripped his mother's hand, and unable to do anything when his twin was put in the cot and hooked up to medical equipment.

He told me about all the injuries Alfred received and I felt my heart twist painfully in my chest. Alfred's body was broken for a long time, but when it healed, his mind was still sick.

He said that Alfred cried a lot and sometimes wouldn't talk for days. He would wake up in the middle of the night screaming from nightmares and Matthew and their mom would have to hug him to try to calm him back down. Alfred didn't want to play games anymore. He'd sit in bed and wouldn't do anything if he didn't have to. He stopped smiling.

He said that Alfred had to go to see a psychiatrist for a really long time. He said Alfred was put on this special medicine. He still took medicine now, but not the exact same kind. He said Alfred still had episodes. He told me Alfred couldn't remember major things that happened that one night, and I guessed that Alfred had done his best to block it out. He told me about Alfred's problems. He said Alfred fell in and out of depression a lot, sometimes had panic attacks, and suffered from something called post-traumatic stress disorder. He told me it was like Alfred kept reliving that day in his head, over and over, and he couldn't stop it no matter what. He told me Alfred's brain was really sick and he wasn't sure it could be fixed.

It made sense to me then. When Alfred got beat up in the locker room, his brain took him back to that one night when he was a little kid. He didn't realize it was a group of upperclassmen that played football at that point in time. His brain decided it was 'him', and that's how he reacted. It all made sense. It made sense how Alfred stopped talking and smiling and acted weird. He had never been happy. He had just tried to make me think that he was.

I realized it then. My best friend Alfred F. Jones was a liar. He was a liar…who needed love and help. And I decided I would provide both, no matter the cost.

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><p>I knew Matthew must have told Alfred that he spilled their secret to me, because when I went to see Alfred in the hospital with Matthew that weekend, Alfred apologized to me quite a few times for how he had been acting. He cried for a while on Matthew's arm and fell asleep before I really got a chance to talk to him.<p>

When he got out of the hospital, and time went by, he didn't change very much. He didn't bother to fake smiles in front of us anymore. One day at lunch it was just me and him, and I could see Matthew buying food in the nearest line. Alfred had been silent all morning and finally looked over at me, and gave me a little grin.

"I appreciate you trying, just like Matthew," he had said, playing with his fries. "…I'm just sorry you have to deal with me. I'm rather difficult. I…shouldn't have led you on."

That little grin was imprinted in my brain from then out. Over the following weeks I started to feel really weird. I started trying to make Alfred smile more. When I actually succeeded, and as I watched his face light up, my chest tightened and my stomach ached and I found myself laughing. I found myself thinking about Alfred a lot. When I'd lie in bed at night unable to sleep, I'd wonder if he was awake too, or if he was feeling alright.

I learned easily enough after that…that I had a crush on Alfred. I wanted to make him smile, even if it meant breaking my back doing it.

I did have a phone, but I had never really used it. Sometimes my brothers would text me little messages – always at the oddest hours though since they never slept – but besides them, my phone was really never used. Now though I had Matthew's and Alfred's phone numbers. I used to only text them if we were meeting up somewhere and I couldn't find them. But now I found myself texting Alfred almost every day.

Alfred was interesting to chat with behind a screen. He had lost his humor it seemed like in the real world, as he had stopped cracking jokes long ago, but when he texted, it was like I was re-meeting Alfred. He joked a lot and I found myself grinning stupidly at the black electronic device nonstop.

He was a lazy texter but I didn't mind. He always texted back at least, and it was like he actually took time to think about what he was writing back.

One day I didn't see him in class. I texted him as soon as I could. He simply replied with 'suspended. fighting.'.

I pressed for more details but he never texted back…and that worried me. Alfred _always _texted me back. I had texted Matthew about it instead. Apparently Alfred got into a fight with someone in their English class. Apparently, from what Matthew told me, the kid wouldn't stop picking on him, until finally, they got into a fight. When I found out, my mind relaxed a bit more, but I didn't like knowing Alfred was being bullied…

I didn't hear from him for three days when I suddenly got a text at two-thirty in the morning. It woke me up from a deep sleep and I found myself irritable as I looked through my messages. Alfred's message was fresh off the presses, but it was short and I didn't like how it made my skin crawl.

'Arthur, what are you supposed to say to someone when it's all over?'

My phone started vibrating before I got a chance to text back. I noticed it was a phone call and I frowned. I could remember when we first met that Alfred never liked to talk on the phone because it made him uncomfortable. Maybe he accidentally called?

I answered regardless, softly as to not wake up my father in the room next door. I was surprised – shocked, more like – to hear Alfred's quivering voice on the other end.

"What's wrong?" I whispered in the darkness, staring up at the bleak ceiling over my head. "You never call me…"

"I-I'm sorry." I had never heard Alfred cry like that. They were little muffled sobs that made my heart hurt. They were full of so much pain and hurt and I couldn't do anything to stop them. "I-I… I-I need…help, please."

I talked to Alfred for at least two hours. He cried until his throat grew raw and he told me everything about himself he could think of. He told me all his secrets and his thoughts.

My heart hurt.

Alfred told me everything. Everything and more that I never dreamed about knowing. He told me about how he hated himself and he wanted to die. He told me about how he ate when he was upset but he got upset when he ate. He said he hated his body. He hated his cowlick and his chubby stomach and his too-bright, too-blue eyes. He told me all about his father and his abuse and how because of it he felt like he was losing 'his fucking mind'. He told me in elementary school kids made fun of him because he was 'weird' and no one but Matthew would play with him. He told me he cut himself last year because he had no friends to talk to about it to let it out and he didn't want to weigh anyone down and-

He bawled louder. He told me he fantasized about hurting himself, because he deserved it. He told me how he'd punch himself until his wrists turned black and he'd pull his own hair back in the seventh grade, to make himself feel something besides the numbness inside that was swallowing him whole until there was nothing left. He said he knew he was sick and needed help but he felt trapped and couldn't find his way out of the tunnel. He said he wanted to laugh and smile again but he felt like he couldn't, that he didn't deserve it.

Alfred told me he didn't deserve to have me as a friend. He said he didn't deserve to have a crush on me but he did anyway and he hated himself for it.

I found myself stumbling for words, and I did my best to comfort him. I waited for what felt like hours until the cries died down to little muffled whimpers before I took my chance.

"Alfred," I mumbled, and I felt myself fidgeting as I uncomfortably kept my phone wedged between my ear and shoulder. "…You shouldn't feel bad for having a crush on me… I… I like you too."

I heard Alfred choke out a laugh in between his little sniffs and at that moment I felt the storm die down until it seemed like there was nothing left.

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><p>I asked Alfred out first. I was surprised that he blushed as much as he did. He stared down at his sneakers – I noticed he never tied his shoes, just tucked the laces into the tongue – and blushed like a schoolgirl. He scratched his head for a while and then he sighed. He offered me a small smile and nodded. "I… I suppose…"<p>

He told me he had been jealous of his twin. Apparently someone had left a love note in Matthew's locker and they were suspecting it was the French boy in the advanced culinary class. Alfred said he had been hoping someone would like him too, but he was 'a little too sick, probably' to get a date.

I told him I honestly didn't care. I liked Alfred anyway.

I started to spend a lot of time with Alfred again. We hung out on the weekends and he still texted me almost every day. I had to do most of the suggesting and talking but that was okay.

I had my first kiss not too long after that. It wasn't very romantic, I knew, since we were perched on my bed playing a video game. Alfred brought it over and I wasn't very good at it. I noticed every time I died in the game, Alfred grinned a little bit.

I don't really remember what brought it on, but I recall taking my chances, leaning forward, and making a move. Alfred's eyes practically bulged out of their sockets and a whine came out of him, but he didn't fight. If anything, after a few moments, he kissed me back.

I found myself inching up on Alfred. His chest felt full and warm and strong when I leaned against it. I pressed against him and buried my fingers in his soft hair and I kissed him until I couldn't breathe anymore. I vaguely remember lying down and feeling his fingers pet my hair until I fell asleep.

I found that I liked to kiss Alfred. It made me feel important to know there was someone there just for me and me alone that I could have all to myself. I was a greedy human being and I couldn't say I felt any regrets. Alfred may have been a little slow with the whole dating thing – he didn't like to be the first to kiss or make plans or make little comments – but I found myself staying attracted to him anyway. It was like my brain didn't want to think about anything else. When I saw him, it was like he was standing in some soft, glowing light. He seemed perfect.

I loved a lot of things about Alfred. I loved his dorky cowlick and his sparkling eyes, and I found myself thinking his chubby stomach was a little cute. I adored his smile and the way he moved and walked and talked. I loved watching how he used his hands to write things in his spiral notebook at lunchtime so he wouldn't forget, and to text, and to eat. His hands were bigger than mine and were scarred, but they were warm and held more than I think he knew.

I felt like some sort of love struck teen girl. Well… I guess I was. Minus the girl part, but I… I loved Alfred more than I originally thought.

I felt like the world was suddenly a perfect place.

Of course…those were just feelings. And once you get too happy, something ruins it, right?

I remember Alfred came to me during school one morning. He was smiling as wide as he could and I could've sworn it was a real happiness. He told me about how his mom was trying to get him into some program over spring break that dealt with aeronautics.

I hadn't ever seen Alfred so happy. He wouldn't shut up about it, but I didn't mind. If he was finding excitement in something then I would gladly let him. I did manage to shut him up though for a little while by kissing him in front of his locker. It wasn't a small peck either. I kissed him until he pushed me away for air and blushed a shade of red that would challenge a tomato.

That, though, was a mistake. It all spread around like wildfire about us. I didn't care but I could tell Alfred was embarrassed. He had once told me his sexuality was still a mystery to him, and he was really shy about it. That was alright though. I didn't mind. I'd find a way to help him feel more comfortable eventually, right?

At first nothing major happened… Until lunch three days later. The group of football players at the table behind us kept throwing things at Alfred. I knew a lot of them harbored ill feelings after the whole gym incident… Alfred kept his head down, already done eating, and had his face buried in a comic book. He had been reading those a lot lately. I never understood them.

I could hear them from behind. Their insults buzzed in my ears like a swarm of angry bees and I found that right then I hated mankind.

'Fuckin' faggot! Didja see him sucking face with Kirkland this morning?' 'What a loser!' 'Don't see why anyone would even give him the time of day! Well, then again, I guess Kirkland's a chubby chaser, huh?' 'I don't even know why Kirkland would date him! He's so damn weird anyway!' 'You forgot to mention a pussy. Instead of trying to fight back, let me just curl up in a ball and cry!'

I saw Alfred's eyes go dark. I saw the misery come back and his smile vanished. His eyes glistened slightly with hurt tears and I couldn't do anything to help as he just lowered his head further.

'Look at him! Look boys, he's gonna cry!' 'I bet his daddy would be real proud!' 'Hell, I bet his dad doesn't even love him! If my kid was that damn weird I wouldn't look at him twice!' There was laughter pounding against my ears. I tried to lay my hand on Alfred's own to comfort him, but he snatched it away from me. 'I bet his brother and mom and Kirkland don't give two fucks either! Why would you care about something that doesn't even deserve to be alive?' 'May as well take a Glock to the forehead! Maybe Kirkland could clean up after, huh?' 'Yeah, may as well. No one would miss him anyway.'

Alfred cried. He tried his hardest to hold them in until his cheeks turned red and his hands started shaking. Finally it all came spilling out. I watched tears pour out of his beautiful eyes and he got up faster than I thought he ever could. He left everything behind. Matthew got up and ran after him, and I decided it was best to let his twin handle it. Regardless of our relationship, Matthew knew Alfred better than I did… I knew he could fix it. Or, well, at least I hoped.

Alfred wasn't on the bus after school. Matthew told me he went home after the incident. I had to admit that I was worried about him. I hadn't seen hurt like that cross Alfred's face before and I didn't like it. Matthew said Alfred had cried a lot but he hoped he would be okay. His tears had dried up before he went home, so that was good.

I didn't hear from Alfred at all that day. I didn't blame him for it. After all, he probably didn't want to talk if he was still down.

It was like déjà vu. My phone went off early in the morning, waking me up. It was a phone call from Alfred and I accepted it as fast as my tired fingers let me.

"Hello?" My voice was sleepy and slurred and I tried to be as alert as I could. It was hard though. I was really tired. "Alfred?"

He was crying. I instantly sat up in bed, letting the bed sheets crumple about my waist as I held my phone tighter. "Alfred?"

"Arthur," he mumbled out in between harsh sobs. "I… I have to tell you something. I think I've figured out what you say to someone when it's all over."

He let out a laugh. I didn't like it. It made my skin crawl and coil and a shiver scaled my spine. He sniffed and his inhalation suddenly grew irregular and breathy.

"I… I think you first say 'I love you'. Then you say you're sorry." He paused for a second and all I heard was the sound of him crying. "I love you, Arthur. I really do… I… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry."

I told myself I wasn't panicking, but I was. I felt my heart stop. My fingers tightened on the phone and I leaned forward. Tears formed in my eyes and I managed to hold them in. "Alfred. Alfred, no, I swear to _God _if you-"

"I'm sorry!" He started sobbing. He hiccupped and sniffled weakly for a moment before I heard him mumbling. "I-I'm sorry… I-I… I love you… I love you, okay?"

"Alfred, don't-" And with that, my end of the line went dead. At first I found myself just staring dumbly at my phone…until I panicked. I cried as I tore myself out of bed and fled into the hall. My footsteps were heavy and quick and I didn't care. If Father woke up, then he woke up.

Things like that didn't matter right now.

* * *

><p>I had a nightmare when I fell asleep in the waiting room. I could remember Alfred's body being huddled on the bathroom floor, pale and cold and barely there. I could remember Matthew moving him just enough to pick his head up and shove his fingers down his throat. This disgusting mess of partially digested pills came up and seemed like they weren't going to <em>stop <em>coming out. I almost got sick myself. Alfred convulsed for a while after that and I wrapped him up in a blanket to keep him warm until the paramedics arrived.

But in my nightmare, Alfred never woke up.

I shot awake violently in the hospital. Matthew and Alyssa were sitting on my left and they were both wide awake. I don't know how I managed to fall asleep; I guess my body just shut down from exhaustion and worry.

I think Alyssa was in shock. She knew plenty about Alfred's sickness, but I guess, judging from the terrified look on her face, she never expected Alfred to try something like that. After all, it seemed like he had been getting better…

Matthew was a wreck. His face was pale but cheeks red, and judging by the salty lines on his face, I knew he had been crying for a long time. He kept fidgeting with the hem of his sweater and kept his head down and I realized how anxious he was.

They eventually let us in to see Alfred. He was fit to exploding with wires and tubes and I didn't like it. The room smelled like disinfectant and it felt too cold to my already chilled body.

I found myself standing on one side of the bed, by myself, while Alyssa and Matthew stood on the other. I held Alfred's hand and I found myself kissing his forehead, over and over, mumbling sweet nothings in his ear before I just broke down crying.

Knowing that Alfred had attempted suicide, and I couldn't stop him… It broke my heart unlike anything else in the whole damn world.

I felt like I stood there for hours. My legs grew numb from the blood pooling inside of them but I ignored it. I was so tired. I could have fallen asleep right then and there, standing on my own two feet. But when I saw Alfred shift on the bed I was wide awake again.

Alfred didn't speak or move or open his eyes after that. I watched and held my breath. After a while he finally dared to open those blue eyes I loved so much, and I let my hand settle on his warm cheek.

Alfred's gaze met mine for a moment, and then, tears dribbled out of his eyes. He didn't cry very much at first, until I think everything dawned on him. And when that happened he started sobbing. I ran my hands through his hair and rubbed little loving circles on his cheeks with my knuckles, able to feel how hot his skin was under my touch.

He wouldn't stop crying. I listened to him apologize over and over and then I couldn't get him to shut up. He kept mumbling sweet little love messages to me and it made my heart melt despite the situation. Eventually I had to put my hand over his mouth to get him to stop talking.

"You should be quiet for now and rest," I mumbled. I could feel the eyes of his family gridlocked on me and it made me uncomfortable. "You've…had a rough day."

I was taken by surprise when Alfred's slightly pale but warm hand fisted into my shirt. He yanked me down and I couldn't help but yelp slightly in surprise. And he kissed me. His hands felt suddenly stronger than I thought, and I was frozen in temporary shock as he tried his damndest to pry my mouth open. I couldn't help but gag from the taste when he succeeded. It was something truly disgusting due to him being forced to get sick earlier. I did my best to deal with it though. Alfred had never kissed me before; I always kissed him first. So to actually…initiate a kiss… I vaguely felt my heart swell up in my chest.

He released me after a moment. His eyes didn't look happy but…I could've sworn they at least looked relieved. Alfred stared at me for a second before he closed his eyes. And I felt relieved then, knowing I'd get to see those beautiful blue orbs when they opened again.

* * *

><p>Alfred told me many things when he was in the hospital. He showed me everything on his body he felt was important. I found myself tracing my fingers over many scars. They had faded to silver by now instead of what he called 'a damn ugly red color'.<p>

I got him to talk more about himself than he ever had. I watched anger and hate and sadness run down his cheeks. He closed his eyes when he talked and his chest trembled violently as he tried to keep it all in. I didn't let him. I forced it all out, and I felt satisfied when my boyfriend burst in front of me. He cried and let out every negative thought and feeling he ever harbored.

But that was important. I got him to let it out.

When he was released, Matthew invited me over to spend time with him. He said Alfred had been complaining a little that he hadn't been able to see me. After all, visiting hours at the hospital came between us often.

I ate dinner there, and for a while, the twins and I occupied ourselves by playing video games and talking as we sat in the bedroom. I found that I really liked the beanbag chair they had lying on the ground.

Matthew eventually left us alone. Just me and Alfred. We sat on the floor for a long time, side by side, just listening to his radio and staring at the ceiling. Occasionally I found myself singing along quietly and I was surprised when Alfred's hand tugged gently on my ear. "You have a nice singing voice," he whispered, and I blushed. I felt it easily enough.

Alfred picked a song out when we listened that he said was 'gonna remind me of you'. We laid there on his carpeted flooring and just listened. I found myself getting chills and I rolled over to lean against him, feeling one of his arms drape over me in reply.

I kissed Alfred a lot that night. My eyes and mouth were hungry and I was pretty sure I devoured him whole. I bruised his lips with my own and I pressed tightly against him, digging my hands into the powder blue button-up that was sloppily half-tucked in. He flushed a deep, striking red and at last pushed my head back with his palm. I figured he wanted me to stop and so I did.

I don't know why it was so funny to me. It just was. I remember sitting there laughing as I just leaned against Alfred, whose body radiated great heat despite him only being in a t-shirt and shorts. I noticed now that he told me about it all, his scars were a lot more obvious to me. His gym shorts were almost down to his knees; these were shorter. I noticed the silvery marks that littered his thighs, which he easily managed to hide every day.

I accidentally figured out he had a ticklish stomach and legs. He laughed a bit and pushed me and after a bit we just, once more, laid on his floor, staring at the ceiling, listening to his old radio.

I knew Alfred wasn't healed at this point, or really anywhere close. I just knew I was helping. That's all he needed. He needed help. I guess that's why I was there: to help.

* * *

><p>My brothers got to meet Alfred over summer vacation that year. They all goofed off in the den and I felt…really happy. Alfred seemed rather talkative that one night too. My oldest brother seemed to like Alfred a lot. I wasn't sure why and I didn't bother to ask why. My inner thoughts were enough.<p>

I was still dating Alfred when I graduated. I remember how happy I was when he and Matthew and Alyssa all came to my ceremony. My brothers came too and my father made it there. I cried like a baby all the way home as I sat in the backseat of the car, wedged between my oldest brother and Alfred.

The party they threw me was enjoyable. I never really liked things like that but I got to spend time with everyone and…I liked that a lot. I remember my oldest brother taking a picture of me and Alfred in our suits and Father got it framed. It went on the mantle when it was finished and I loved to look at it. After all, Alfred actually smiled for me and his eyes looked a little brighter then.

We stayed up almost all night. My brothers all went out to go drinking and then were going to go back to their hotel at some point. Father went off to bed. Matthew and Alyssa went home and Alfred stayed. I remember us sitting around in the den in the dark, just talking, absorbed in the off-blue glow of the television set.

We went outside in the darkness with a flashlight and wound up stargazing. Alfred's hands felt warm as they held tight onto my stomach, and I let my own rest atop of them. I used him as a chair and just leaned against his form that seemed bigger than mine.

I went into a greedy daze at some point. I remember his face being lit by moonlight and I remember kissing him. I bit his lip and left love bites on his collar bone. I remember him laughing when I tickled him and how he pushed me into the grass and held me there with his huge hands that I loved so much.

I remember that by the time I went to bed in the wee hours of the morning, my face hurt from smiling. Alfred passed out on my bed and I didn't do anything about it. I'm pretty sure I simply fell asleep beside him, and I really didn't mind that.

He was a dork. A slightly broken and damaged dork but I can't say that it really mattered to me. I was just…transfixed. I just-

"Arthur?"

I feel myself blink, and my weight shifts on the bed as I look over. That pair of twenty-one-year-old eyes stare back at me and I hear that laughter I love so damn much.

"You know it's late, right? Diaries can wait 'till later." He stretches himself out lazily on my bed and the old scars on his legs glisten in the lamplight of the bedroom. His shirt is at least three sizes two big on him and the logo displays some American football team I didn't really care about. His hair is disheveled from an evening shower and not bothering to comb it out afterwards and I can smell him from where I sit. It's a good, comforting smell that I find calms me without effort. The fact I can remember how we were paired for a room after we finished high school…still makes me grin like an idiot.

-loved him anyway, I guess.

And I suppose I really do as I grab his face in the dull light of our room, and kiss him. He complies easily enough and after a second I feel myself break down into hysterical laughter. I guess I'm not exactly any more of a dork than he is.

But in my case, I don't think it's the same. I'm not the same as Alfred. He's different than me in several ways I find hard to explain now.

Regardless… Alfred F. Jones, the old liar in my neighborhood years ago, the old broken boy with that rare smile and the scarred brain, is a perfect human being.

* * *

><p>End.<p>

A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed and make sure to have a safe holiday season! :)


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